The time was 9am. A U.S. "fighter pilot" whom shall remain anonymous had received his orders for the day and was now seated and preparing for takeoff over the skies of Iraq. He had been briefed by his commanders. He knew his targets and was now poised to carry out his mission. But there's just a few things that should be noted before this story continues. First, there was no cockpit. Second, he wasn't on an airstrip. And third but most important, he wasn't even in a plane. Nope. This fly boy just happened to be back in the gold ole U.S of A. in an air conditioned office far removed from the field of battle, sitting at his desk, staring at multiple computer screens which were giving him a bird's eye view from a predator drone in real time. He had always wanted this and after countless nights and countless hours of immersing himself in Grand Theft Auto, Halo, Call of Duty and other first person shooter games, his gamer lifestyle had finally paid off and his ultimate dream had come true. As far back as he could remember he'd loved the adrenaline rush that he felt when playing violent video games. The more blood and gore the better. It was like he'd become desensitized to it. And when he made the decision to join the military and found out that there was a drone pilot program and that part of the training requirements was that you play and be good at Call of Duty and various other first person shooter applications, he was in heaven. Up to this point, the young warrior hadn't saw any action but little did he know his luck was about to change. So one day after returning from lunch at the local greasy spoon and joshing it around at the water cooler with his fellow drone buddies he returned to his seat and to his surprise there was a situation on the ground and suddenly he heard these words from his commanding officer, "We have men that are in trouble. They're pinned down. There's no exit and they're going to be screwed if you don't do something. What are you going to do? This was the moment he had been waiting for. So with reckless anticipation, he grabbed his" joy stick", zeroed in on the coordinates of the impending attack and waited for the command to fire. While waiting for the command he zoomed in closely to look into the eyes of those that were soon to be annihilated. Then the command was given, "Fire one"! He pressed the button and the target's fate was sealed. When the smoke cleared all that was left was a giant hole in the ground. His regularly scheduled shift had turned into a day of guts and glory. He watched in close up and was amazed at the carnage he'd inflicted. He even stuck around to see the gory mess that was left to clean and be removed. And when it was realized that several innocents were killed, including children, his response was, "Oh well they should have known better than to bring kids into a war zone." "Collateral damage." After the deed was done Pilot So and So received several high fives and kudos for a job well done. He was repeatedly inculcated with the notion that what he'd done was good and was the right thing to do. Yep. This young ace had protected his buddies and all though being in no particular danger himself he felt like a billion bucks. He had finally come into his own. This one time gamer geek was now a certified U.S. "Drone Pilot." The last time I heard from this daring cadet he said he was awaiting a medal for his distinguished service. He informed me that our most esteemed government was considering handing out medals to him and his cohorts for their bravery and daring achievements in the theatre of war. I wonder what the pilots who had to dodge heat seeking missiles and 50 caliber bullets would think of this. Those who were shot down and had to eject and land in enemy territory, many becoming P.O.W.'s. I wonder how they would feel regarding this matter. And last but not least, I wonder what the surviving family members would have to say for those that paid the ultimate sacrifice and never made it home. I'm not saying I'm a psychic but if I had to guess I'd say they feel cheated.
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